Lonely Among Us
by GreyShadeOfQuietMouseColour
Summary: The first few weeks of his new life as a monk were very hard for Mark. While he had no reason to love his uncle or miss his old life, Mark pined for it. Often he wished he was back where he felt safe, among familiar things and people. At least there he had been sure what to expect. Now whenever he was given a task to do he hurried to fulfill it, fearful of punishment...
The first few weeks of his new life as a monk were very hard for Mark. While he had no reason to love his uncle or miss his old life, Mark pined for it. Often he wished he was back where he felt safe, among familiar things and people. At least there he had been sure what to expect. Now whenever he was given a task to do he hurried to fulfil it, fearful of punishment should he make a mistake. When the Brothers spoke to him he cast his eyes down and gave short answers designed to dissuade further conversation.

Had he ever thought of life as a monk before coming to the abbey Mark would have assumed it to be restful and quiet, free of worry or fear. In truth he found it quite the opposite, full of strict rules and people with exacting standards. Never sure who to trust and wary of authority, Mark found it best to keep to himself. He did not feel comfortable around the monks and spent his time waiting for them to turn on him and punish him for some failing or other.

Despite his fears, however, there were some things Mark found to be genuinely grateful for. For one, he had more food than he had ever been given before. Regular meals were something he had been unaccustomed to and something he found great pleasure in now. Also, he was able to sleep more comfortably and longer than when he had lived with his uncle, where his bed had been on the floor of the stables. Every day Mark woke feeling rested and even though his days were busy and filled with chores he was never tired, but enjoyed the chance to learn so many new things.

Gradually, in his own strange and isolated way Mark settled down to his new life, never having been asked if it was something he would have chosen. He went about his duties quietly and never mentioned his unhappiness to anybody, though he often thought with longing of his old home.

It had been almost a month since Mark's uncle had abandoned him at the abbey gates, finally wishing to be rid of him, when Mark met Brother Cadfael. He had, of course, seen the herbalist before, but had never had cause to speak to him or take much notice of him. He was just another unfamiliar face in a crowd of strangers.

One afternoon they both happened to be crossing the great court, Mark hurrying to complete his errand, his head down to avoid attracting notice, when a small accident occurred. A child of one of the abbey guests tripped while playing with his fellows and cut his hand on a loose rock.

At the sound of the child's cries Brother Cadfael paused on his way and turned aside intending to help, only to see Mark approach the injured boy. He watched with interest as Mark stopped and crouched down beside the child, speaking to him in a gentle voice, as one accustomed to calming frightened animals. Though Cadfael could not hear what was said the child stopped crying and allowed Mark to look at his hand.

It was a surprise to Cadfael to see the new novice, who was usually so silent, speaking to the child with so much kindness and confidence. From what he had seen of Brother Mark he was shy and preferred to be left alone. Cadfael remembered seeing him arrive with his uncle, a starved figure wrapped in a faded cloak, nervously trailing behind the older man like a dog expecting to be kicked. He had felt a surge of pity for Mark, who seemed so frightened and unhappy, but had had no reason to think of him again.

Now Cadfael looked at the boy with renewed interest as he gently took the child's hand between his own thin ones to examine it. His touch was very deliberate and careful, so as not to cause pain, and he maintained a steady flow of practical and reassuring words for the child as he fetched water and washed the cut. It was not deep and had already stopped bleeding and soon the child was running away again after his playmates, his accident all but forgotten.

Mark rose to his feet to continue on with his errand, unaware that he had been observed. The whole incident had taken only a few minutes and nobody except Cadfael had paid any attention to it. Such small things were common and as there was no serious hurt there was no reason for anyone to trouble themselves. Cadfael however had seen a side to Mark he had not known existed, a caring side. Perhaps there was hope for him yet that he could find a place to be happy within the abbey.

Quickening his step to catch up with Mark, Cadfael called out for the boy to wait. Ahead of him Mark came to an unwilling halt and spun around, his eyes guarded and wary. He looked like somebody resigned to the fact that something unpleasant is going to happen to them, his stance tense as if expecting a blow. Cadfael felt a renewed sympathy for him. Surely he was too young to have lost all faith in others. Perhaps with the right encouragement this unhappy novice could still gain back some of the trust he had lost.

"I saw you just now with that injured child," Cadfael said as he drew level with Mark. He stopped a few steps away from the boy, careful to give him space. "Where did you learn to be so gentle?" Close up Cadfael saw that Mark was smaller for his age and painfully thin, with large clear eyes and untidy hair. An air of anxiety surrounded him, though underneath Cadfael sensed there was more to him, a strength and determination that just needed a chance to come out.

Mark's face went from guarded to confused, as he tried to see what he could have done wrong or find some kind of trick in the question. "I looked after my uncle's horses," he replied eventually, his voice reluctant. As he spoke his eyes were turned down, fixed on a spot on the floor by Cadfael's feet.

"My name is Brother Cadfael. I tend the herb gardens here." He paused and Mark nodded to show he knew who Cadfael was. "I have just lost my assistant and have been meaning to speak to Father Abbot about his replacement. I think you would be well-suited to the task. You'll need a steady hand and a good eye for detail to help with my medicines, but I am satisfied that you have those already."

"But I have no knowledge of medicine," Mark ventured tentatively, glancing up at Cadfael's encouraging face, "I would be a poor assistant."

Cadfael smiled good-naturedly, more convinced than ever that he had judged right what kind of person this boy could turn out to be. "Nonsense. You will learn."

Mark bowed his head, but not before Cadfael had seen the flash of longing and gratitude in his eyes. It was enough for him. "I will ask Father Abbot today," he decided firmly and strode away leaving the boy to look after him, his face full of confusion and a tentative hope.


End file.
